


The Summer She Didn’t Exist

by Ena2705



Series: Criminal Minds Oneshots [7]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, Poor Emily, not canon but I don’t care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ena2705/pseuds/Ena2705
Summary: What did Emily do when she died? What was she doing when she found out she could resurrect?
Series: Criminal Minds Oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828786
Kudos: 2





	The Summer She Didn’t Exist

Wrought iron rails carry a chill from the night’s breeze. They’re a welcome feeling, contrasting the early morning sun which already brings promise of high heat. Her fingers lightly trace the twisted alloy, chipped paint from years of seafront exposure catching on a callous every now and again. She quietly hums a tune she caught on the radio the evening prior. Small, colourful birds sit on the top of the cliff undisturbed, and fly away when she joins them at the peak. Out of her bag she pulls a small loaf, still warm from her visit to the bakery, and casts half of it to the rocks where the birds now lay, a peace offering for interrupting the flock’s sunbathe. As the sun inches over the distant mountains, she turns to follow the path she took up the cliff and returns to the village. Greengrocers are setting up displays of fresh produce, and the souvenir shop owners are wrestling carousels of postcards onto the street. The tourists won’t rise for a few hours, at least. She returns to the room she rents, switching out her bag of personal belongings with an old, wooden violin case. She bids her house-host a good morning as she leaves for the day. 

She sets up stall where she always does, on the corner of a popular daytime restaurant and a tourist bar; the merrier the tourists, the larger their tips. Some days, she will play whatever is requested of her, and she giggles with the notation that she is a human jukebox, but today she was feeling rather nostalgic, and decided to play from the heart, reminiscing on happy memories with her friends. As the day progresses, the feeling of nostalgia turns to melancholy, and her tune follows her memories of the weeks leading up to her demise. She reaches the apex, the moment where the stake is driven in, and the violin gives a ferocious yelp, a horsehair breaking away from the bow. Taking a moment to compose herself, she decides to lay the instrument down for a while, and turns to the daytime restaurant for lunch. The bartender is familiar with her face, and jumps to take her order before the sunburnt English man returning to purchase his third beer of the morning. She sits at a quiet table made for two, away from the groups of families and friends enjoying a week or two in the European sun, and pulls her phone from her pocket. A notification banner alerts her to a message from an old friend on her online word game. She, at last, can return.


End file.
